|
When I was your age I was just like you, |
|
And just look at me now; I'm sure you do. |
|
But your grandfather was just as bad |
|
And you should have heard him trash his dad. |
|
Life's no picnic, that's a given: |
|
My mom's mom died when my mom was seven; |
|
My mom's father was a tragic guy, |
|
But he was so distant and nobody knows why. |
|
Now, your mother's family, you know them: |
|
Each and every one a gem, |
|
Each and every one a gem. |
|
When I was your age I was a mess; |
|
On a bad day I still am, I guess. |
|
I think I know what you're going through; |
|
Everything changes but nothing is new. |
|
And I know that I'm miserable; can't you see? |
|
I just want you to be just like me. |
|
Boys grow up to be grown men |
|
And then men change back into boys again. |
|
You're starting up and I'm winding down; |
|
Ain't it big enough for us both in this town? |
|
Say it's big enough for us both in this town. |
|
When I was your age I thought I hated my dad |
|
And that the feeling was a mutual one that we had; |
|
We fought each other day and night: |
|
I was always wrong; he was always right. |
|
But he had the power and he needed to win; |
|
His life half over, mine about to begin. |
|
I'm not sure about that Oedipal stuff, |
|
But when we were together it was always rough. |
|
Hate is a strong word; I want to back-track; |
|
The bigger the front, then the bigger the back; |
|
The bigger the front, then the bigger the back. |
|
Now you and me are me and you, |
|
And it's a different ballgame though not brand-new. |
|
I don't know what all of this fighting is for; |
|
But we're having us a teenage/middle-age war. |
|
I don't want to die and you want to live; |
|
It takes a little bit of take and a whole lot of give. |
|
It never really ends though each race is run, |
|
This thing between a father and a son. |
|
Maybe it's power and push and shove, |
|
Maybe it's hate but probably it's love, |
|
Maybe it's hate but probably it's love. |